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“Oh, God,” Paige wailed.
“What?”
“She must be great in bed.”
“You think?”
“What else could it be?”
“It can’t be that. She doesn’t have the imagination.”
“Well, she must have something I don’t,” Paige argued.
“No. Noah’s just an idiot.”
“Okay,” Paige agreed. “Let’s go with that.”
Heather and Noah had been living together now for almost four months, and their relationship had caused an undeniable rift between the two families. Paige hadn’t spoken to her cousin since the night she’d found her with Noah, despite Heather’s halfhearted attempts at reconciliation. Out of loyalty, her mother had turned down all invitations to dine with her brother-in-law and his wife.
And now Ted Hamilton was turning eighty and a big party was being held in his honor at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel a week from Saturday night, and her mother felt obligated to go and wanted Paige to come along. “You could always bring a date,” she’d suggested, knowing Heather would be there with Noah.
“Yeah, right,” Paige whispered, pulling out her phone as she exited the Prudential Building onto Boylston Street, checking for messages and finding none. She hailed a cab and settled into the backseat, giving the driver Chloe’s address in Cambridge and silently reviewing the job interview she’d just left, going over the questions she’d been asked and the answers she’d given, knowing that it hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped, that her answers had been tentative at best, her confidence shattered after six months of being unemployed.
She just wasn’t as sharp as she’d wanted to be, as sheneededto be, if she was to secure another position. Plus, she looked less than professional in the shapeless floral shift she’d thrown on so carelessly this morning. At the very least, she should have gone home to change. She wasn’t even wearing a bra, for God’s sake. Even Heather would have had the good sense to dress in something more appropriate.
What was it her father had said when comparing her to her cousin? “You have the confidence without the attitude. Heather has the attitude without the confidence.”
Now Paige had neither.
And Heather had Noah.
And she would most certainly be showing him off at her father’s party.
“Shit,” Paige said, louder than she’d intended.
“You say something?” the cabbie asked as they were approaching the Harvard Bridge.
“No, sorry,” Paige apologized, returning her attention to her phone. She clicked onto Match Sticks and scrolled through the ever-expanding list of possible suitors.Stud Muffin,one prospect boasted beside a picture of a regrettably shirtless man biting into a giant chocolate chip muffin. Paige swiped left, watching his image disappear.Romeo,read the name beside a dough-faced, middle-aged man who claimed to be a fan of long walks in the rain. “Really?” Paige whispered, swiping left again. There were people who actually enjoyed walking in the rain?Romeowas followed byChaucer, Luther,andJust Plain Alan.“Just plain no,” Paige said, swiping left each time. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe shewastoo picky.
“Hold on. Who’s this?” she asked, stopping on a picture of a man calling himself Mr. Right Now. Paige laughed. At least this guy had a sense of humor. And he was exceptionally handsome. Assuming he looked anything at all like the picture he’d posted, he’d be the ideal revenge date to bring to her uncle’s party. “No,” she said, imaginary alarm bells ringing in her head as she recalled last night’s fiasco. “You are definitely too good to be true.” She clicked off the site and tossed the phone into her purse.
What had become of meeting a potential romantic partner at work or through mutual friends, or even picking up someone at a bar? Had the ease and expediency of today’s technology rendered even such basic human contact obsolete? “Ah, the good old days.”
“You say something?” the cabbie asked again.
“Lots of traffic,” Paige improvised.
“Always is.”
Paige nodded, watching the long line of cars inching their way across the Charles River toward Cambridge. Maybe expediency was only part of it, she thought. Maybe everyone was just lonely. She leaned back against the brown vinyl seat and closed her eyes, surprised to find Mr. Right Now waiting for her behind her closed lids. Too lonely to wait for a chance encounter at work or count on a suggestion from a friend. Too lazy to head out to a bar, too afraid to risk rejection face-to-face.
So maybe she’d revisit Match Sticks later, maybe even swipe right on Mr. Right Now’s picture and wait to see if he’d return her interest. Was there any chance he was as good as advertised? “Yeah, right,” Paige whispered. “Dream on.”
